


Las Vegas

by blueraccoon



Series: Gibbs/Reid [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, NCIS
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-17
Updated: 2009-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueraccoon/pseuds/blueraccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You haven't done this in a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Las Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> This was iniitally intended for the Porn Battle but I took too long. With my love to [](http://sanders.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**sanders**](http://sanders.dreamwidth.org/) for pointing out that the first three drafts sucked.

The kid's looking for something, some _one_. There's tension in the way he holds himself, the way he glances up but immediately looks back down. He's all but begging for someone to claim him, someone to curl their hand around the back of his neck and force him to his knees.

Gibbs doesn't even think about it, really. The kid passes by him and he reaches out, closing his hand around the thin wrist, tightening his grip just enough to convey a message. He's not surprised when the kid gasps softly, everything about him going still for one long moment. He doesn't resist when Gibbs pushes him up against the wall, pinning his hands over his head. "Safeword?" he asks, his voice low and dark in the kid's ear.

He gets a shudder and a flash of tongue as the kid licks his lips. "Las Vegas," he says, voice husky, and Gibbs's stomach tightens with the need to hear him beg.

Gibbs doesn't ask his name and doesn't volunteer his own. He curls his hand around the kid's wrist, drawing him toward the back of the club, the cubicles and bigger, more fully equipped rooms. He's not surprised when the kid follows, not even putting up a pretense of reluctance. There's a time and a place for those games and right now is neither.

The bouncer at the back gives them a nod and a number and Gibbs opens the door, shutting it behind them. "Limits?" he asks.

The kid looks around, like he's not sure whether to stand, sit on the bed, or kneel. He ends up staying where he is, hands linked in front of him. "Blindfolds," he says. "Anything that leaves visible marks.Bloodplay, breathplay, scat, humiliation."

Nothing unreasonable, nothing really out of the ordinary. Gibbs nods. "Strip," he says matter-of-factly. "Let me see you."

He's a little amused to see the kid flush a bit, hesitating for a moment before reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. He undresses quickly, a little awkwardly, piling his clothes on the dresser. He reminds Gibbs of a colt, long and lean and restless, reaching up to brush his hair back in a nervous gesture.

"You haven't done this in a while, have you," Gibbs says, studying him.

"That--that doesn't matter," the kid says. "Believe me, I'm well above the age of consent and I know what I'm doing."

"I know you are," Gibbs says, amused. He doesn't fuck around with barely-legal. Jailbait isn't his thing. "I didn't ask if you knew what you were doing, I said that you haven't done this in a while."

The kid flushes again. "No," he admits. "I haven't--had the time."

Or the opportunity. Gibbs knows how that can be all too well. He walks over to the kid, taking his wrists in his hands. He can feel the kid's pulse under his thumbs, quick and strong. The kid licks his lips again, and Gibbs releases one of his wrists, sliding his hand into the kid's hair and bringing him down for a kiss.

It really has been a while, he thinks, and not just for the kid. The kiss is a little awkward at first, differing heights and angles and the kid's hesitant, stiff almost. Gibbs tightens the hand in his hair and bites his bottom lip, and the kid just melts against him, returning the kiss greedily, making a soft little sound in his throat.

"That's it," Gibbs murmurs against his lips. "You need it, don't you."

He feels the heat in the kid's face, and he'd turn his head away if Gibbs didn't have hold of his hair. "Need has variable--"

Gibbs shuts him up with another kiss, demanding and aggressive. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't," he says, tightening his grip on the kid's wrist. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't, either," the kid whispers.

"No, I wouldn't." The kid's got balls, Gibbs will give him that. "I'm not in this just to get you off."

"Good," the kid says. "I don't trust anyone who says they're operating on strictly altruistic motives."

"Believe me, I'm not that nice," Gibbs says, smiling despite himself.

"You're not--not like the others I've met," the kid says slowly. "What's your name?"

It makes Gibbs wonder what kind of guys this kid's been playing with. "Gibbs," he says. "Yours?" It would, he supposes, be good to be able to refer to him as something other than 'the kid'.

"Reid." He doesn't say whether it's a first name or a last name, but Gibbs really doesn't care.

"Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way." Gibbs lets go of him, stepping back. "You been on a cross before?"

"Once," Reid says, nodding. He pushes a lock of hair out of his face again, but it seems more habit and less nervous gesture this time.

"Let's go for twice." Gibbs gestures, and Reid walks over to the cross. He looks good against it, pale skin and dark wood. Gibbs buckles the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, testing each one. "You okay?"

"Yes." Reid nods, taking a deep breath. "Yes."

Gibbs runs a hand down his back and steps away to the dresser, taking out a simple black paddle. He doesn't say a word, just steadies himself and brings the paddle down on Reid's ass. Reid gasps, twisting under the blow, and Gibbs gives him a moment to settle before smacking him again.

He's not surprised when Reid looks like he's fighting it, not ready to relax into the pain just yet. A few more blows, though, and he sees the change ripple through Reid, the way he stops straining against the cuffs and his gasps become soft, broken moans. His whole body goes loose, even as he twists into the blows. There's sweat on his upper lip and his face is flushed and while Gibbs would like to drag him off the cross and fuck him, Reid's not quite earned that yet.

Reid's knees buckle and he sags against the cross, crying out when the paddle lands again. "Please--sir--"

"Okay. Okay. I've got you." Gibbs slips one arm around his waist, holding him as he gets the cuffs undone. Reid sinks to his knees anyway, trembling all over, tears on his lashes and his breath coming in hitching gasps. He's--Gibbs really doesn't have a word other than beautiful. "C'mon," he says, guiding Reid up and over to the futon.

The two of them sink down on the thick mattress, Reid wrapping himself around Gibbs and tilting his face up for a kiss. Gibbs indulges him, kissing him long and sweet, his hands running over Reid's body, feeling the heat in his ass and his thighs, the faint shivers he can't control. "On your back," he says softly, pulling back. "Hands over your head."

The cuffs are already attached to the legs of the futon and it's easy to fasten them around Reid's wrists. Gibbs runs his hands over Reid's arms, leaning down to kiss him again. "Sir--" Reid whispers.

"What is it?" Gibbs asks, running his fingers through Reid's hair.

"Would you--would you take off your clothes?" Reid asks shyly.

Gibbs smiles. "Yeah. Okay." He strips quickly, dropping his clothes next to Reid's and moving to kneel between his legs.

"Thank you," Reid murmurs.

Latex and lube, the two necessities. Gibbs snags both and pulls on a glove, slicking his fingers. Reid's tight, almost painfully so, when Gibbs eases one finger into him, but he relaxes pretty damn fast. "You like this part?" Gibbs asks, watching the way he bites his lip, pushing back against Gibbs' hand. "Do you stretch yourself open at home, play with toys?"

Reid squirms. "Sometimes," he admits. "It's--safer."

"But sometimes you want that edge, don't you?" Gibbs asks, adding a second finger. "S'why you came here tonight. You didn't want your own hand anymore, you wanted to take the risk. Find someone who'd claim you, pin you down and fuck you hard."

"I don't--" Reid gasps, arching back. "I don't want someone to claim me."

Gibbs twists his fingers again and Reid moans, broken and sweet. If he doesn't want someone to claim him, he's doing a damn poor job of showing it. But Gibbs isn't in the market for a boy, not for anything longer than a night.

Reid whimpers and moans and squirms, his body opening to Gibbs, his voice growing more and more desperate. "Please--please, sir, fuck me--" he pleads.

"Yeah." Gibbs' own voice is hoarse and he takes a deep breath as he eases his fingers out and strips off the glove, tossing it in the trash. He rolls on the condom, slicks it up, and pushes Reid's legs up and back, hooking them over his shoulders as he pushes into him.

"God--" Reid whispers, his head tossing against the pillow. "Hard--"

Gibbs is tempted to make it slow and easy, just to remind him who's in charge here, but really, it's not worth it. He kisses Reid again, beginning to move. Hard and steady, every stroke dragging a whine out of Reid's throat. Reid pulls against the cuffs, trying to move with him; Gibbs lets him, the jingle of the chains blending with the sounds of skin on skin and the desperate, husky whimpers Reid makes.

"Come," Gibbs gets out, reaching down to wrap a hand around Reid's cock. It's awkward and his other arm protests the strain but it's worth it to see Reid cry out, squeezing around Gibbs as he comes in a rush, panting for breath.

It takes Gibbs a little longer--very little--before he groans, burying himself in Reid's body and staying there for a long moment.

He moves slowly, easing out of Reid and letting his legs rest against the mattress. Condom gets disposed of and he unfastens the cuffs, bringing Reid's arms down and rubbing his wrists. His hands and his fingers are warm, moving easily, and he sighs, curling to rest against Gibbs. "Need to get you cleaned up," Gibbs says gently, reaching for the handi-wipes. Reid grumbles in protest but allows Gibbs to clean them up, rolling right back against him when he's done.

Gibbs settles against him, stroking his back and his hair. "You were..." He stops, not really finding the right word. "You okay?" he asks.

"Mm. Minute." Reid stays against him, clearly in no shape to move. Gibbs holds him and pets him, content for the moment to let him snuggle.

Eventually, though, Reid pulls away, pushing his hair back and sitting up. "Thank you," he says, a little awkwardly.

Gibbs nods and sits up as well. "My pleasure." He means it.

"Do you--ah--do you come here often?" Reid asks, hesitantly. He gets up, beginning to pull on his clothes.

"No," Gibbs says honestly. "Do you?" He stretches and stands, reaching for his shorts.

Reid smiles faintly and shakes his head. "No."

They get dressed in silence and leave the room. Gibbs hands the card back to the bouncer so he can arrange for the room to be cleaned and they make their way out of the club. Reid's moving languidly, all earlier restlessness gone.

Gibbs steps out into the night and sighs. "Listen," he says finally. He takes out a card from his pocket. It's got 'Gibbs' and his cell phone on it, nothing more. "You ever want to, call me."

"I don't want to be claimed," Reid says quietly, taking the card.

"I don't want to claim you." Gibbs isn't sure which of them is telling the truth.

Reid studies him for a long moment before nodding and tucking the card away. "Okay."

"You okay to get home?" Gibbs asks.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Reid hesitates, like he wants to say something else, but just nods. "Night."

"Night." Gibbs heads down the stairs and toward the street. He's parked a block away. Reid doesn't follow him and Gibbs thinks he probably went out toward the Metro stop. Probably just as well, that.

He doubts Reid will call. But who knows?


End file.
